Experience the Warmth
by sheep1
Summary: The world above is cold, clean, and sure it is the world Hermione knows she needs to be in. The world below is warm, dark, and teeming with hatred, but perhaps that is the world that Hermione desperately needs COMPLETE!
1. You think I should adhere

*A/n: Well everyone welcome to my second fanfiction a dark little bit, inspired by the Incubus song "The Warmth." Oh and by little bit this is going to be really a lot shorter then my 1st because school is so damn time consuming. like normal I hate the 1st chapter by since I have already written a few more chapter I know it will all and up being worth it, plus I think I will always hate the 1st chapter as long as I write. Its just a thing of mine. I have no beta so it's my own damn falt for the grammer + spelling , I hope to get chapter 2 up by the end of the weekend, and if you review and tell me it sucks then please stop reading it, I don't want to disappoint you any further.  
  
I rated this fanfiction R for morals in the story being a tad bit shifty... I believe around chapter 6 you might understand  
  
J.K.R. came up with the characters, and I came up with these absurd circumstances, I hope she will forgive me. ^_^ *  
  
1. You think I should adhere  
  
The fine art of suffering, Hermione thought. Everything about it will suck like a bloody fuck and you will hate every minute of it. But when you look back on it and how far you've come, you will reminisce. You think that was some good suffering, and just maybe I am a stronger person because of it. For you have experienced that fine art know as suffering.  
  
And Hermione couldn't wait for that moment she could look back on Ron, and this whole dumb relationship, and reminisce. But right now she was tied into it, married. Wow, wasn't that was a dumb idea. But she didn't know that then. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Too late now.  
  
Hermione had her foot against the headboard of their bed, lying backwards. Like she was rebelling against the way you are supposed to lie in your bed. She wanted to piss something off right now, maybe the god of how to lie in beds was pissed off at her right now. She looked outside to the window imagining that somewhere up in the clouds there was some old balding god with two barely clothed woman curled up next to him in the bed, and he was glaring at her.  
  
iYeah well fuck you.i  
  
Actually that guy wouldn't probably be that angry, the gods of how to lie in beds didn't have it very hard. Two women to teach how to lie in the bed the right way. Yes he wouldn't give a damn. Too much for that. Hermione lie rocking her for self in the bed. More like a nervous action made by her foot. The as the bed groaned and swayed under the movement. She was rocking back and forth, faster now that she noticed that she was doing it.  
  
The neighbors in the apartment below theirs were probably wondering what she was doing to make that entire racket. Or more likely thinking of what uthey/u were doing. They were probably trying to block that thought out now. It wasn't true anyways, so they could just shut up. Ron had just left.  
  
Not left for good though. Of course not for good, he had just left announcing "this is a dumb" and "I'll be back in a couple hours." He was off at the pub, adding a bit more to that belly of his. Hermione kicked the headboard. He was the dumb one, really fucking dumb one.  
  
So when he came home he would pretend like it had never happened. Just say "Hello 'Mione" And kiss her with that taste of alcohol on his lips and walk off to take a shower. So, as he believed, by the time he came out of his shower she had forgot all that have ever happened between them. She was supposed to continue loving him.  
  
Loving him when he came out of the shower ass naked. Loving him enough for this to turn her on. Loving him enough that he could wave away her clothing and fuck her till he came.  
  
Only it was to getting to the point he came and she didn't. And that really pissed her off for some odd reason. Though she supposed sex with the same person did get to be like that, she never had wanted to ask. She still didn't. the thought of the subject "does Dad still give you an orgasm?" To her mother made her want to throw up. Almost as much as Ron smelling of Zest, ass naked with a boner did.  
  
Because she would have just forgiven him, for him being a total asshole two hours ago. Because she let him go spend, what was probably her damn money towards his liquor, while she sat at home. Because she knew he was always going to come back to her. This whole situation seemed wrong.  
  
She wondered if this was the best it could be. If the average married couple did this. And she fell upon her answer. Which was probably, why yes, of course  
  
But then Hermione asked herself if she was average enough to stand it.  
  
And that answer was no.  
  
Hermione packed with vengeance, and with a smile. Just a small trunk. Six robes, six set of underwear, socks... shoes. Hey what's a girl without her shoes? And with her flick of wand she lifted the trunk and levitated it out the door. With another wave of her wand she closed all the blinds, curtains, and doors, only leaving one small beam of light enter the room, aimed directly onto directly onto the note.  
  
Hermione walked out the door, and it knew damn well enough to slam shut behind her.  
  
....  
  
Dearest Ron,  
  
I need some time to myself. No don't track me down. Maybe you can use this bit of time to think about things. What you really think is important. Because I will be.  
  
Hermione  
  
...  
  
The cold wind blew Hermione's hair back fluttering around her face. It made her feel sexy, empowered in some odd way. Like some actress in a muggle movie walking down the street as the whole audience thought about how pretty she was and how dumb that guy must be to treat her like that. Cause they knew that she wasn't going to put up with that shit.  
  
Her silhouette boots teetered and sunk straight into the snow and she saw the large manhole in front of her. She smiled and stepping her foot right onto the rusted manhole cover. It immediately began to sink straight into the earth. Accepting her.  
  
"Beam me down Scotty" Hermione couldn't help muttering with a smile on her face as she sank. The wind only on her hair now and soon there was nothing, just a dim darkness. A still and humid darkness. Hermione took a deep breath and let out a shiver. No, Ron would never look for her here, because he didn't even know here existed.  
  
No, Candle Lit Alley was far to untamed for his pure Weasley ears. No, he never even read up on the Great War of Voldemort, the war of the devils own son, flesh and blood. He just said they had lived through it and there was no reason to be concerned with other war stories. That their own was enough. Little did he know that the story she wanted him to read was her own.  
  
Because Candlelit alley was the mudblood concentration camp. It was here that she coexisted with the others of "her kind." Only most of them died, and she didn't. Be cause she also coexisted with the dark. And she sold herself to them, she had to punish and keep order of her own kind. And in return she wouldn't die. So week by week would pass and she would see the new faces, they would look to her scared...  
  
"Oh, Miss how can we survive like you?"  
  
"Why are you taking us here!?"  
  
"You are the devil!"  
  
No, she wanted to tell them, she was just smart enough to play on the devil's side. Because she had to survive. Maybe you, miss, would have survived if you played your cards right. But too bad. Sucks to be you. Because if you cant lie to save your own life its your own problem and not mine.  
  
Hermione pushed the memories away and stepped into the inn that was engraved into the wall. They had cleared all the things they could away, but the main buildings couldn't be un-engraved from the walls, so they were just reused.  
  
So now she was staring at the old main death eater building. Which was now an inn. At least as close to an inn this area could get. The whole alley was a suspicious place for suspicious wizards and witches who couldn't even afford to live above the ground. The arch shaped hole that was the door brought her to the bar and what one could consider an eating area, motioning to the bar keeper, he glared at her.  
  
Oh, yes, she didn't look like the type here. Her tailored leather coat falling around her and the crisp snow beginning to drip at her pant hems, she should be somewhere where someone with actual clothing should stay. Too bad.  
  
"I need a room" she said simply to the man, who upon closer look had a perpetual twitch in his right eye. The dirty cleaning rag in his hand was almost the same color as his faded clothing. How it got faded was beyond her as the wax drenched candles barely lit the place.  
  
He gave her a smile. Hermione might say it was creepy, but she was here on her own business, so she didn't care. She didn't care if it looked odd that she was here. She didn't care that that twitch turned more onto a wink as the bar tender told her "yes ma'am" and handed her a key. Hermione snatched the key from his lanky hand and walked straight up the stairs to the room two.  
  
It actually had a door, now that was a small miracle. They didn't used to, or at least they were always open all he time. Because the perverted Death eaters liked to "recruit" mudbloods in whole view of everyone who walked down this hall. Hermione shunned the thought from her mind with the feeling of sickness in her stomach. The crude chalk 2 wrote on the door of her room was staring up at her.  
  
She was surprised the old innkeeper was even educated enough to do that. And upon entering the room the stale air assaulted her senses. Hermione let out a small cough and surveyed the mattress on the floor, a crumpled blanket sat on it looking though someone would have to be crazy to even to touch it.  
  
Hermione let couple small coughs; secretly thankful this room didn't resemble the one she remembered. It even had a door to the left which on closer inspection lead to a bathroom. It was a sort of bathroom you would expect to go with the room, a chipped porcelain toilet and sink. Along with the cracked mirror, in which one glace could tell you that was taken from a dumpster, by a person who didn't have the proper tetanus shots that he probably needed.  
  
And then there was the shower. A simple nozzle from the wall and there was a drain on the ground. Hermione didn't care. Hermione threw off her cloths balancing them on the sink, watching the white silk absorb the discolored droplet of water. She thought that wasn't a good idea now, but it was too late.  
  
She turned the shower onto it hot streams of water came drizzling out. The steam filled the room as she tried to scrub herself under the slow drip, and wondered if it would be a better idea to use the cold water. She had a feeling that her sweat made her wetter then the water did. But that didn't matter because she was going to be clean.  
  
And she turned off the water and walked to the mattress collapsing on its dirtied surface trying to not think about it. Closing her eyes she tried to let the sleep overcome her and on several hours of thinking about it, fell asleep. 


	2. And leave in my wake, a trail of fear

*A/n: See, I followed through and posted a chapter this weekend... its early weekend too (aka not Sunday at midnight ^_^) I probably wont get the next chapter up till next weekend, but we never know if Ill suddenly find myself putting it up earlier. thanks to my 2 reviewers  
  
theophania: yes in the future the past will be told :P  
  
SkysTheLimit: I tend to agree with you, JKR is pretty crazy to want to hint at a Hermione and Ron relationship, and make all the rest of us deal with it.*  
  
2. And leave in my wake, a trail of fear  
  
Hermione was sitting across from the fire downstairs now. It was morning she supposed. Not much life for the morning, but there is never that much life here. Just the warm dry heat coming off from the darkening fire and a slow wrinkle of the newspaper of the man sitting in the hard backed chair. It looks like a school chair, made so you would have immaculate posture. But instead all the kids will lean back and fall asleep just in spite of the designers. Only Hermione never did that. Neither does this man, his back like a board, and face encompassed by the print of the newspaper.  
  
And the bartender is glaring at Hermione as well. Maybe he found out she used all the water yesterday. Or maybe he just always looks like that. Or perhaps he always looks like that but he is still angry, only no one is able to tell because he never shows any emotion. Emotion beside anger that is. Though he is always angry. Because he is stuck in the hell hole. Or at least he is convinced it is one.  
  
But Hermione loved it.  
  
Though her tea was colder then the air around her, and though it tasted of rust, and though she was pretty sure the teabag had more dust then leaves in it she was fine. She was happy. She let out a smile at the bartender.  
  
Hermione threw her tea into he fire and leaned back in the chair, content.  
  
"Would you mind?" The cold voice came from behind the paper. Hermione shuddered at its harshness.  
  
"Mind what?" Hermione replied just as cold. Playing the game. The daily profit reader was griping the sides of the paper with a firm hold. Why was he so damn angry? Some people just had too much uncontrolled rage. She didn't do anything to him. Basterd.  
  
"You put out the god damned fire, and I would *appreciate* it if you would light a new one." The bartender was looking over at her now. She could almost imagine it was amused gaze. Like he was waiting to see what would happen. Maybe for some action. Only you would think down here fights would break out daily. Or perhaps he was just angry with them for disturbing the nice atmosphere of dreary.  
  
Hermione shook her head and took a sharp intake of breath. Yes he certainly was a basterd, that reader of the daily profit. Probably believed every word out of the dumb thing. Like that Harry's death was a hoax. Honest to god it was almost as bad as the Quibbler. Only they had a better group of fiction writers so the plots weren't about aliens, but of the people who actually lived in this world, or at least used to. Because it is so much more realist if at one time you seen the person with your own eyes. Like her. Your twice as likely to believe Hermione Granger was hiding the aforementioned Harry Potter in a secret underground lair that used to be a place for the followers of Voldemort, then those no good punk aliens just holding him hostage.  
  
Only she was the one hiding in the underground lair once owned by followers of Voldemort. And she was not going to start a fire for this son of a bitch.  
  
Hermione took out her wand and muttering gave a swift tap to the air. In which the newspaper lit afire. And Hermione stood up and turned to her room marching off. Trying to pretend to be oblivious to the consistent swearing of down below.  
  
"Ms. Granger this is an absolute infringement on the common courteously normal so-called human beings follow for the sake of avoiding these type of interactions!" And she knew that voice. She knew she knew that voice. That yell of absolute power. Like he owned the god damned world and need to use every single word to the full affect of making you feel inferior. Now who was it?  
  
Ah yes, Severus mother fucking Snape.  
  
She hid behind the door. She hid for dear life. She his because this was no random angry bystander. This was angry bystander Severus Snape. She could feel her heart banging inside her chest and her brain screaming at her. He was going to kill her. Slaughter and she would just be a bloodstain on the mattress for others to wonder what happened there. To wonder if they wanted to know what happened there.  
  
She wouldn't have wanted to know herself.  
  
Or she would think it was just some sexually explicit activity that caused it. And at that point he would make herself not think about it. Of course that wouldn't work, and she would have this ringing in her ears, but in all truth it was jut a remnant of the blood seeping out of her when he cracked her head open.  
  
Of course Snape would probably do magical slaughter, which could be slightly less bloody. And the old potions master might even find a cunning way to catch her he off guard to drink some potion in which would cause a horribly slow and malicious death. No, she was never going to so much as sniff something offered by that man. And he was banging on the door now.  
  
It was only slightly louder then her heart beat. It was more of a knock actually. A polite respectable knock.. Ah, he thought he would get her by something this easy was he? Son of a bitch though she was a brainless idiot. Well she will show him... or maybe she'll just wimp out.  
  
"What is it you want" She yelled her back still to the door. As though expecting him to come bursting in.  
  
"I would like a word." The snarl came. Hermione cringed at the voice, soft and plainly poisonous. Like the soft hiss of a snake. She sighed.  
  
"I believe you are having one."  
  
"A face to face word, Ms. Granger." Hermione turned around and opened the door to find his face five centimeters from her own.  
  
"Yes?" Hermione managed to breathe out though every instinct she had in her was yelling for her to run. Run for the bloody fucking hills. You can find a safer place to hide from Ron. While you're at it make sure it's a place to hide from certain ex-professors. Hell, maybe her own goddamned coffin would be the best option here.  
  
Of course then Ron would think he could see her in heaven. Or would that be hell?  
  
"Am I forced to believe that you just set my current issue of the daily profit afire?" Severus questioned though knowing very well the answer he would get. Or would get to hear after a bit of time staring her in the eyes. Daring her to blink or shudder, or even breath a breath that he himself did not give her consent to breath.  
  
"Yes" He didn't have to then, did he?  
  
"I believe you owe me an apology and a replacement then?" Hermione imagined the apology. Yes that would work. Apologizing to him, yes, I'm sorry you pissed me off so very much. I'm sorry you're a complete and utter basterd. Oh yes and I'm sorry that after I've grown up I'm not liable to put up with this shit anymore because you have no control over me.  
  
"I might" Hermione's mouth fell dry because this was all she could say. She was at his will. Yes it all would be a perfectly empowering thing to say. She could damn well say it to Ron. But somehow this was horribly different.  
  
"Then will you?" Different as in the term she just saw her life flash before her eyes. Because "Will you", is a threat and he damn well knows it. It was a fucking open invitation to imagine of what damage he would cause your sorry pathetic self if you said no. Say no, was all her brain could tell her.  
  
"In due time I am considering it."  
  
Snape scoffed and looked at the girl in front of him. Okay, so he could never exactly look away from her since she was five centimeters away. He could feel her breath blowing on his face and it was rather a bit damper and strangled then the constant humidity around him. It made him want to throw up.  
  
"Bitch"  
  
Severus turned and walked to the next room over. Hermione glared and slammed her door. She had no idea what she was going to do next.  
  
...  
  
Hermione glared at her cracked reflection in the mirror. Why did she have to freak out so damn bad. She thought she figured out her damned self and then she has to go screw up her own angry self image by feeling that beat in the pit of her stomach. It refuses to go away. Even though it is over.  
  
Stupid, dumb, retarded. She was tired of this all. Hermione traced the cracks radiating in the mirror. Willing the sharp edges to cut her. Cut her to stop this feeling of fear. Because she can feel angry about the pain. A sharp pain dragged along her ring finger. The blood began a steady drip. Hermione bit her lip and held back the whine she wanted to let out so badly  
  
"Damn it" she whispered to herself, knowing perfectly well that this was her own making. Of course she hated the sight of her own blood. She cringed and held her finger applying the pressure to will it to stop. But it wasn't going to work like that. It just continued its humming pain feeling hot, now she shook her hand back and forth finally letting out the moan she been holding back.  
  
Yes this only proved she was more of a wimp. Hermione moved to the bed and laying down face first into it. She knew the blood was now sinking into the bed. It was her blood on the bed. And it wasn't even Snape who killed her that caused this little puddle. Hermione bit her lip and caught her breath in her throat, and strangled a little sniff. Hermione eyes glazed over with tears that she didn't want nor need, and she blinked it away. Feeling her cheeks slightly damp.  
  
But at least it wasn't full tears... or at least not till now.  
  
Self-misery. The worst form of entertainment. Because you will always end up crying. Hermione knew this all too well. The pain is but too personal to ignore. And it will never end. There is no one you hate more then your self. And there is nothing you care about more then your self. And as much as the morally righteous try to deny it,  
  
There is nothing more important. 


	3. I know, I watched the warmth blow away

*A/n: sorry I didn't get this up last weekend it just got all kind of busy and time fell away, and well, its here now, because I'm on short thanksgiving break. I will probably get another chapter up before this Monday but Dec 5-7 weekend I'm going to Las Vegas to see a wedding so it wont really be possibly then. none the less I'll find time to put stuff up, and you will find time to read, right? maybe? no? well I can live with that. *shrugs*  
  
thanks to theophania and SkysTheLimit for our continuing support. To my new reviewer Jinxd n cursed thank you, as well as my stories don't often have a clear plot line you can pick up and decipher from the beginning, it might be a flaw, but hey, it makes me feel unique :P  
  
Oh, yes and if I offend anyone in this chapter I'm horribly sorry... hell make that applies to all the chapters... if I ever offend you I'm sorry but that wont stop me from writing it, you know why cause its already written if you reading it, so ha-ha!*  
  
3. I know, *I* watched the warmth blow away  
  
It was a windowsill. A dusty windowsill that contained no window. Just a hole in the wall that sat there defying the normal thought of what should be on that wall. Maybe a shelf or two and it could be a bookshelf, but for now it was a fine place to crawl up in, hoping to die. Hermione sat with her knees to her face, resting her eyes.  
  
Wouldn't be nice if there was a cool breeze coming out of the window. The nonexistent window with a nice cool breathe of air. Not the shit that was continued filtered through the crack under the door. Perhaps a bit of oxygen in her blood stream would do her some good. But no this was her chamber, her torture cell. The sweat drizzling down her back and she could only pull her knees to her chest tighter. Maybe she could stop her own damned breath from breathing in this all.  
  
If this was a real window she could look out to the blue sky. Because in her dream it would be the perfect shade of blue. The type you could see in the clearest lake and would want to reach out into that sky and take a sip. But as you could quench that thirst you would look down. Down onto that cold hard cement. The strong cement, with one crack. The crack with grass finding its way though, just in spite of it all. And you would fall.  
  
The wind coursing through your hair. Oh, would that freedom. It truly would. The air not trying to push against you. Because the air doesn't give a damn what you do. What you think. Or what anyone else thinks you think. In this cool pure air it would never fight against you. Chills up your spin as you fell.  
  
That freedom is that plausible reason for doing whatever the hell you want. But in truth we are all too afraid to have this true freedom. What will happen if I exercise my freedoms to no extent? You'll get thrown in jail. Because you have no freedom. Until that 4 seconds before you die, then you have real freedom. But it's too late then. Might as well just enjoy it in a hypothetical sense.  
  
That last second of freedom before your hit.  
  
The little freedom, Hermione wanted so badly. Because the pain of hitting Hermione had gained without even the triumph of falling. Because Ron didn't want to see her fall. He didn't want to see her stand up for herself either. No, because what Ron wanted was the paper doll bride of his dreams. Or perhaps just his own god damn mother.  
  
"It would be so wonderful Hermione." He had said. Hermione felt a rage flow through her veins. Or perhaps just a confused little jet yet so far. She didn't quite know what he was going to say next. Maybe it would be something totally off topic. Like it would be so wonderful to go out on a long vacation. It would be so wonderful if the results from Hermione's healer exams came back early. Maybe it would be wonderful if she got promoted from a lame nurse to something meaningful.  
  
"It would be so wonderful if you were a mother." Hermione bit hard on her inner lip. Harder and harder till she was pretty sure she created a tear there, in her own flesh. Her face was turned away so he couldn't see her expression. Because what she said two minutes ago was just a sarcastic comment. But now it rang in her ears refracting off the drywall in the room. A deadly echo to cause an avalanche. She should have know not to say them...  
  
-"Yeah, Ron, Like if I didn't pass what would I do then, give birth to your kin?"-  
  
She didn't need to bring that up again but what he said, just pissed her off in that way random things can just get under you skin. Just make you want to yell shut up and slap him across the face. Because what the hell made him say that? ...  
  
-"Well even if you don't pass then you have other plausible things to do, right hon?"-  
  
Yes, oh yes, she wasn't going to pass them if things went Ron's way. He would have had her fail her N.E.W.T. if it had been up to him. Just to keep her at home when he was mourning Harry. Yeah well she had news, she was mourning Harry too. It wasn't just you that were sad. But some of us had to get on with our lives. Some of us think Harry would want us to make a goddamn difference then sit around and mop while valuable years of our lives waste away.  
  
She could see his gravestone now... "Spent his Life Mourning Harry Potter's" ... Oh and there was hers right next to it ... "The Wife That put Ron Weasley Out of His Own Damn Misery."  
  
"I'm not going to birth your babies Ron."Hermione said plainly, finally gaining enough control of her face contortions to look at him. Look him straight in the eye and ask him to even try and fuck with her right now.  
  
"Oh, come on Hermione, don't say that."  
  
"Oh, and I'm going to become a Healer." Hermione said putting on a tight smile. It slide across her face and she glared at him. Oh yes, that was his Adams apple bobbing reluctantly. We all know who the man is in this relationship now Ron.  
  
"I didn't say you wouldn't" Ron said the look on his face somewhat concerned.  
  
"And I'm not going to be one of them big fluffy healers who deal with the pregnant women and their swollen bellies. I will not be on a pediatric floor. I will not look at a little bald mushy thing that looks Identical to every other bald mushy thing and say 'How adorable! I want one! Let me go home and fuck with my husband till pregnant so I can be purposeless or the nine months! Yes lets!'"  
  
"It not a bad thing to be a mother, some of the greatest women in the world were mothers!" Ron cried geting rather desperate and offended.  
  
"Oh, like Lilly potter. Who was so in love with here little flap of potential person that she risked her own damn life to save it. Yes, I know Ron; She was the real reason Voldemort died that first time. Because of her oh so strong Earth magic connecting her and her Love for her child. That boy that she had to carry around with strenuous back pain and had to force out of this little hole in her while her, while her damn husband sat around and tried to comfort her. Oh, no, wait, James wasn't even there for Harry's birth. Poor dear old Harry always thought this dad was a saint. Oh yes he was the best father in the whole damn world! Poor Lilly living and dieing for a lie of a love. She could have done so much better."  
  
"Now you won't insult he dead like that"  
  
"Oh, wait and then there is Ronald's other main motherly influence... his dear old mum. She was the saint. How many of you was there? Six, seven, twenty-two? Oh yes she dedicated her whole life to raising you children. She was so utterly heart broke when Ginny was killed in the war. She went into a suicidal spree, fuck fighting for the side of light. Her baby that the whole entire world taught her to love and cherish forever, because she was the only girl, the only one who she could absolutely depend on for grandchildren was gone. Because with boys they don't need to marry the mother of their children.  
  
But you did so now to try to and make dear old mum feel better lets force your wonderful wife who can bear as many children as she can as long as you keep he semen pumping. Ron I hate to break it to you but it isn't going to work that way."  
  
It was then ton muttered something about her being a bitch and that she shouldn't insult his mother that way, or that it was pretty low assault. Maybe something thrown in there about him wonder what her real gender was, because she evidently wasn't any normal woman and he left.  
  
Hermione had yelled at the door that she was too fucking good to be a normal woman.  
  
Hermione at there with her knees pulled up to her face now. Undistressed by her own lake of breathing. Breathing was not her cup of tea. She could just sit her and imagine the oxygen seeping in though her pores. She didn't need to breathe or think anymore. Because she was falling and soon it would all be over.  
  
Hermione let out a dry hallow cough exhaling the carbon dioxide waste product in her blood stream. Muggle science, her peers in the university would say. They would scoff. Who need that obscenely complex muggle science when we just accept that things happen? Things happen and you should get used to it. Don't try and define it into obscenely small things and that make rules... laws Hermione would mumble and the kids would shrug. Like they cared.  
  
Hermione's stomach clenched and she let out a soft groan and knew immediately she had breathed because her whole body felt lighter. Like her stomach felt lighter. Like her stomach was going to fall up her throat and out of her mouth. Hermione ran to the little porcelain toilet and threw her guts up. Wishing the place had some sort of lemon spritz, freshen up a bit.  
  
Then the truth hit her like a lead brick.  
  
A dangerously toxic lead brick.  
  
Due to her present condition Ron would suggest she would stay away from that lead brick to not damage the growing fetus.  
  
Hermione wanted to throw up again. 


	4. So don't let the world bring you down

*A/n: chapter 4... yea! lol, thatnks to the three of you for your continuing reveiws... my audience *tear*, lol. Maybe I'll get this up by tuesday next week, I'll probaly be editing on my plane ride to vegas *smiles* so I can put it up when I come back. till then, happy reading*  
  
4. So don't let the world bring you down  
  
Hermione fingered at the doorknob, turning it with anxiety. Like Professor Snape was going to jump out from behind it with an chainsaw. Or a flaming Daily profit... maybe a log to stampede into the door with, only it would run through her stomach. She would be one big splinter with flesh stuck on it. The bartender downs stairs would probably want to mount it in all its unsanitariness.  
  
Of course running her stomach threw with a spear was one of her last resorts at this point so she sighed a breath of relief to see no one was on the other side.  
  
Why had she been dreading going outside this door? She was a big girl now and didn't have to worry about no bug bad Professor Snape taking away house points. She bet she could probably kick his ass if she really wanted to. She wasn't a fucking weakling. She could stand for herself.  
  
And she would.  
  
Hermione stepped almost arrogantly down he stairs. And not so much glancing at the bartender she marched out the door. Taking in a deep breath of humid muck. And marched across the street to the store.  
  
...  
  
Hermione would have liked it if it were a longer walk to the store. So she could just walk and feel herself feeling powerful. Because nothing is like a good stomp to make one feel better, superior perhaps. But instead of relishing in herself she walked into the store.  
  
The store resembled that of every other building around there. The same stone, the same groups of passages that made no sense to any practical person. The same holes that made perfect sense for someone hiding something. Or pretending to hid something.  
  
Hermione lost herself in the aisles. Old sacks of flour and cornmeal sitting on selves. They looked as though they might have weathered a century already. Running her finger across the top she could feel the dust ball up into her fingerprint. She blew the roll of dust off reveling a red line of dried blood raised up slightly higher then the fingerprint.  
  
Hermione quickly shoved that hand into her pocket.  
  
Eventually she found herself in the potion section. A small spice rack little with tiny discolored bottles. A light blue liquid was dripping from it. A group of wetness would gather up at the corner of the rack and after a good minute would finally drip a single drop. Creating a spot of wetness till it sunk into the floor then another drop would fall. Hermione reached out and caught the drop. Smearing it on the inside of her lip she closed her eyes.  
  
God, It felt good, whatever it was. She felt cold all over and the chills were running down her spin. She pulled her lip in to suck on it. She took her ice-cold hands a felt he forehead. She was burning hot, searing. But it really didn't matter. Because this was some pretty damn good stuff. Hermione disappointedly felt the affect wear off. Her heat returning with vengeance.  
  
A sweat trickling down her face. The tiny drops of salt that were like a cool stream but seconds ago were steaming up. A low mist rising from her skin. She hoped that the employee wouldn't notice. People with vaporizing skin came in here all the time, right?  
  
Hermione grabbed bottle of red potion. She didn't want to glance at the label. She knew it was right. She had saw it out of the corner of her eye. She didn't need to look at it to prove it to herself. She trusted herself. Instincts, also she read about this potion... but then again she read something about everything.  
  
She betrayed herself and looked down at the label.  
  
"I would not trust potions here Ms. Granger" A cold voice came from the shadows. Hermione glanced up knowing what she would see. She clutched the potion tighter. And glared at him.  
  
"Oh, that's just what you would want me to think right?" She spat to the clocked figure coming into the light. He must had the potions charmed so he would show up when someone looked at them. So, is this how you make you're living now Severus? Pretty damn sad.  
  
"No, it's the truth." Hermione laughed at him.  
  
"You wouldn't want to help me now would you? You help me? You rather see me die." Severus smirked  
  
"Oh, no, I rather see you lovely superior face glancing up at mine +forever+, because you know how much I +love+ you" Snape's remark was dripping with sarcasm and Hermione felt a rage growing inside of her. She could just punch him. Instead she turned sharply away from him and walked to the counter to buy the potion.  
  
"That will be 10 Sickles" the wart-covered shopkeeper croaked out.  
  
""Don't forget you owe me a Daily Profit Ms. Granger." Snape's voice came from behind her, she snatched up the daily profit off the counter, though a slight nudge to the left would have been quite sufficient. She slammed it down, imagining the huge smirk of the man behind her.  
  
"A Galleon and 10 Sickles with the Daily profit ma'am" Hermione's jaw dropped. A whole fucking Galleon for the daily profit?  
  
"What can you not afford it Ms. Granger? I can help you my dear, if you need." The voice behind her came, oh, now he thought he was smart. Oh, yes, make her pay an obscene price for a stupid little paper. Did he pay this everyday? Or was the shopkeeper playing on her nativity. Hermione couldn't back down though. She handed the shopkeeper the money grabbed the paper and slamming it into his chest.  
  
Too bad he was stable and didn't fall back wards. She should have used more force. Too late, Hermione marched out of the door.  
  
"I still wouldn't use that potion Ms. Granger." He had caught up to her though she walking at such a pace. His long steps matching two of her frantic ones. She was tired of running. She slowed to a normal pace, breathing through her nose though it was burning in her lungs. She needed more oxygen then she could take in. She needed to collapse. To sleep. To do something other then this.  
  
"And I trust you are well educated in the field" She twirled the potion on her palm, did he even know the potion? Probably not, he was just making this all up.  
  
"I'm the one who taught you, and I thought you would remember that lesson better" Hermione looked up at him nearly running into the wall of the inn. He looked down on her, and stepped aside from the door.  
  
"Ladies and Children first." Snape whispered, she walked through the door turning a shade of red from rage. Oh, does he think he can use it against me now does he? Hermione slammed herself down into the char looking into the fire. Maybe he would go away. He would go away more if she went into her room, but then she would be hiding again. She didn't feel like hiding. She wasn't the damned victim.  
  
"Tell me Ms. Granger what color is the potion?" Snape sat down in the next to her, his voice low. At least he wasn't announcing it for the whole world. He really needed some money now did he?  
  
"Red, And I believe that is the color of the potion I had in mind for taking, I did not pick this one up by mistake if you were trying to imply..." Hermione said in an angry mummer, flustered from trying to restrain herself from shouting.  
  
"Oh, I have no doubt you wanted that potion," Hermione felt the word whore being implied there and clenched her fist. "But tell me, is the potion translucent."  
  
"Yes, it is a translucent Jewel Red. It will get the job done" Hermione simmered holding the potion up to the fire to make him see she wasn't lying. So he could go fuck off.  
  
"Oh, It will get the job done all right, and burn your *achem* insides so badly you will scream until you will lose your voice." Severus replied nonchalantly. Hermione wanted to doubt him, but then it came back to her. That lesson. That retarded fuck damn lesson.  
  
-Severus had looked directly into her eyes that day of 7th year. His obsidian eyes glimmering with a sort of enjoyment, like he was seeing something hilarious. Or he was taking a hundred points from Gryffindor. "The abortion potion it an opaque red potion, long since confused with the love potion, which has the same physical properties. And if administered correctly the love potion will lead to the abortion potion. Do we know any random facts about the abortion potion Ms. Granger?" Hermione had flustered and glared down at her notes, in which she had abruptly stopped taking that day.  
  
She would never need to know any of this. It wouldn't be on the final, just a stupid sex ed day where this son of a bitch thought it would be amusing to pick on her. The one day she didn't take notes. That's why she hadn't had remembered. Because a translucent potion would burn out a vital organ in which it passed through. A certain vital organ to be exact.-  
  
"I'm a Healer, I can make the pain go away."Hermione replied. It was almost the truth, she was good as a healer, she just hadn't had gotten her scores back yet.  
  
"Of course Ronald might notice that you have a different texture then the oh, so +wonderful+ one that you have now when he comes up inside of you... Mrs. Weasley." Hermione blushed and didn't speak. "So is two Galleons sound good to you?"  
  
"Peachy" Hermione muttered. 


	5. I'd like to close my eyes and go numb

*A/N: This took a little bit of time to get up didn't it? so sorry about that, I mean if my computer wasn't a pussy ass piece of shit then it would be up sooner, and it would be better because I had just finished editing it and it was perfect, I mean it was great and right then as I push the fricken stupid save button the computer freezes... Lets just say I was pissed. And you know how you cant write the exact same thing twice, so now I don't like this chapter, but oh well, you all get it anyhow, because I'm done with it! ^^"  
  
theophania - the two galleon were for the abortion potion she finally let Snape talk her into getting from him...  
  
oh, probably to get the full affect of this chapter you have to be severely creeped out like I was before reading -or in my case, writing it - may I suggest the great non-fiction read, "Cult that Kill?"*  
  
5. I'd like to close my eyes and go numb  
  
Hermione pushed the two gold coins along the black coverlet. Watching them sink into the fabric and feeling a nervous pit in her stomach make her tongue itch. She bit it trying to roll the irritating feeling off of it. Not working, she only felt like a few taste buds have had came off. She continued nudging the one coin it making the cover under it buckle. She pushed the coin in till in was cover with the blanket. A ominous lump in the bed to picked the coin out of it and placed it on top of the together. She began rubbing the two nervously together, her nervous fidgeting somehow comforting her.  
  
The room felt different then her room. Probably because he had been here a while it actually looked like someone lived in it. How long had he been here? Is this what he had done after the war? Taken his comforter and big black trunk and rented a room in Candlelit alley selling potions to the people who came here? Of course, look what she did with her life after the war.  
  
"Quit banging those coins together." Severus from over the cauldron, the steam coming up and engulfing his face. "Oh, and relax, or something, this might take a little bit of time."  
  
Hermione scooted back in the bed and leaned back to rest against the wall. She sighed. It even smelled like a person lived here. Like pine, of course that might just be because that was a potion ingredient. A nice potion ingredient though. Hermione closed her eyes feeling her scull against the wall. Rocking it back and forth, felling the bone collide with the wall in a comforting pattern of pain.  
  
...  
  
She had been at home not too long ago, it was what... a week? She had come home. It had been a normal day at the lab she worked at. Blood sample after blood sample showing nothing wizard sciences couldn't find out. She was convinced though she was going to find something. She was going to the person to find something with muggle science that the wizard scientist could not. She would find it and she would laugh at them.  
  
But not today. Not yesterday. Not even 3 month before that. Probably not tomorrow either. Damn it all to hell.  
  
But she was home now. Happy to be in her nice quite abode. Just the small sound of Ron, who was on the couch fiddling with his Rubix cube. She had gotten it for him for his birthday. She claimed it was better then wizard chess. Ron claimed it was the devil's game. She told him the devil's game was badminton. He told her that Ginny loved badminton.  
  
Hermione went and sat down on the couch next to Ron. Leaning back so her body was draped artfully into his. His warmth spreading through her, making her relax. Making her melt. Because that was what Ron was good at. Making her melt into him. Making the day not all that bad, now if he wouldn't talk and keep it like this all the time life might be manageable. No, life would be perfect.  
  
His fingers brushed through the snarls in her hair. His fingers, though large and usually massive and obtuse discusting excuse for fingers suddenly turned skillful and brushed faintly against her neck, pulling the strands of hair just so. Chills running down her spin as she leaned into his bliss.  
  
...  
  
Severus was looking at her when she opened her eyes. His look of slight amusement. He quickly turned and placed the vial in a slab of ice. The block excepted it and molded to form around it. Severus sighed and lifted his sleeve to reveal a silver watch. He looked at the time taking it off in his mind. 1 minute and it will be frozen. Then all that was left was to bring the potion to a simmer.  
  
"So, whom did you fuck around with?" Hermione bit her tongue. She bit it a bit harder now. She took in a deep breath, breathed out and told herself not to slaughter him.  
  
"My husband" She managed to spit out. Glaring at his raised eyebrow and smirk. Basterd thought she was a whore didn't he?  
  
"Oh, and you would be down here secretly getting rid of it because... ?" His voice was that of someone who was enjoying his life more right now watching her suffer then it would be if he had the galleon placed in his hand. No, Hermione should have known better, he wasn't just doing this for the money. He was doing this for the sheer joy of being above her. He was happy to just watch her try and hold back all the hate built up. He could just watch the scenery, that son of a bitch.  
  
"Ron wants me to stop living because of it." Hermione muttered, the rage of both him and her husband knotted into a tight ball of threads, all wanting to fall apart but still will never release if you wanted them to.  
  
But then she looked up at Severus. She looked up and saw one of the threads pull. A yank and it floated to the ground. His emotionless face showed no smirk, just two gleaming dark eyes. Hermione watched his motionless figure; the rest of the threads untied floating lazily to the ground. Severus stopped and turned to the ice block, picking the tube out and spinning it above the open flame.  
  
The flames licking his fingertips with the pain of heat coursing through his entire conscious mind to pull way. The glass of the tube cracked with a loud noise to the silence. He turned to her with the new potion in hand and watched her eyes. He wanted to glance away. But He couldn't.  
  
And then he slipped over the bed, she didn't know if she could trust him with this potion anymore. He hadn't even taken the money so far. Too late, the tube was being pressed to her throat and a warm liquid with a strong taste of soap slid down her. She did not gag. She did not blink.  
  
But he did as he leaned over to encompass her lips, tasting the potion remaining there he moved on to finding more inside of her lips. Hermione complied with a sharp intake of breath and leaning her head back. Deciding he could kill himself with the potion as well as her. Her body being overtaken by his and just letting it go.  
  
His warmth speaking to her and whispering to her that nothing as like this. And as much as you love Ron, as much as you spend countless night convincing yourself that, that nothing is quite the combining of this. This combination of humid hatred and sweet revenge. The slow movement of his lips and the warmth that spread through her veins. All she wanted was the warmth, but was the warmth necessarily as good thing?  
  
His lips slowly lifted away from hers as the world rushed back into her senses, all that was left was is hand tracing her chest. His eyes never leaving hers as he looked into her as if trying to find something. Hermione turned her head away, looking down to the place where his window would be. Nothing to escape to here, was there Hermione?  
  
He had already gotten up, his weight lifting from the mattress, and she felt it now empty, his pine fragrance just a small whiff. She bit her lip and tried to figure out what had just happened. Try to make herself comprehend, trying desperately to make the calm feeling like she had done the right thing go away. Because that couldn't have possibly been the right thing.  
  
He was dangling a bottle of red wine in front of her now. She opened her hands and he placed it there, her eyes drifting up to him, in spite of herself. He wasn't smiling, he wasn't frowning, he was just looking. She looked back.  
  
"You need to drink this, and rest." His voice came out as a soft undertone to her mind, and she nodded. Getting up she walked to the door, and left. Hearing the door click as she stood in the hall.  
  
...  
  
She had been here before, Hermione walked into room # 9. The room no one occupied and it took little more the a simple charm to open the door. The room was maybe just a tad bit smaller then hers. Maybe a bit taller in height. There was no bathroom. There was one large chain hanging from the ceiling.  
  
Made of the finest links leading down from its hook to the hoop tied along the bottom. Hermione wanted to look away. She wanted to pray and ask GOD why. She wanted to understand why that chain had not been used against her, why she was spared to stand here today.  
  
Instead she was took to the floor. There was a mattress there now, but that was an extra bonus before. You were a deluxe member if you got a mattress. But then again some deluxe members didn't want a mattress. They wanted the pentagram on the floor.  
  
The inverted pentagram. The sight of it made her spin twitch, her mind scream and every god damned moral in her body tell her to run. Hermione sat down in the center of it cross legs and pried the cork on her wine bottle. Cheap wine, but all that same here it wasn't quality. It was quantity. And if you can't deal with the quantity then the only quality you have is dead. Hermione pour the liquid down her throat. It easily flowed through.  
  
Hermione turned her head to the floor. She closed her eyes, feeling as though she might be attacked. She closed her eyes and prayed. She prayed that she can be forgiven for being a part of this, she prayed that the ones who hung from that rope were in heaven now, and not hell as the dark worshiper thought killing them like this would bring them, she prayed that maybe somewhere out there someone like her was at peace, in the arms of who they loved. Hermione prayed that they knew love better then herself.  
  
Her itching eyes had teared over. She swallowed it back and stood up...  
  
"Stand up bitch" The high crackling voice instructed her  
  
"Down you realize this is your damnation, this is your fall? You say yes and Lucifer owns you, we kill you and you go straight to hell, the eternity. You say yes and you leave it us to us to sacrifice you. You say yes and you leave it up to me to carve you beautiful body into a sacred sculpture and sacrifice it to the one true god. " The blade in his hand gleamed in the dark room, twisting the chain around it a smile playing on his lips. His hand coming down to masage her face, that smell reaking from them caught her breath in her throat.  
  
"Or perhaps instead I can instead lick the sweet blood of your loyalty off you" He came up behind her pressing his body into hers. His crusted lips settling over her neck where he bit down. She held back her scream and instead it came as a breathless gasp as the sharp pain mixed in with the dull constant one. He had lifted his lips off her open wound murmuring into her ear. "And we can practice a different type of magick."  
  
Hermione wanted to throw up and cry. She wanted to run from that circle humming with power. She wanted to just die.  
  
But,  
  
"Yes."  
  
She murmured, It was barely a whisper, but it still counted. Hermione closed her and tilted her head back and screamed. Screaming her soul out.  
  
And somehow that one moment was so much worse then when he drew that inverted cross over her heart, the open wound showing the muscles pumping underneath...  
  
That moment was worse then when she let him have her virgin self in the pentagram, his dead flesh penetrating her and pain...  
  
That moment was worse then when she herd the neck of the girl before her's snap, followed by that innocent laughter....  
  
That moment was so much worse then anything else. Because she didn't want to sell herself to the devil, GOD would know that. He would. GOD would know, wouldn't he?  
  
Or maybe only the devil would care. -  
  
... 


	6. Not everyone here is that fucked up and ...

*A/n: Sorry this one is a bit short. maybe the next one will be longer because this one is so short... you never know. Actually I really don't know myself, I mean I can practically end it next chapter...*shrugs* I hope the chapter isn't too confusing, in fact when editing I added a ton more just to tray and clarify... originally almost all the dialects for by themselves, something's are meant to be confusing so I can have fun clarify them latter, kay? okay!  
  
Hope everyone will have a happy new year!*  
  
6. Not everyone here is that fucked up and cold  
  
She opened her eyes to her room. To her mattress, to her now relatively nice room. She wondered what the hell had happened. Severus was sitting in the window. She could tell he knew she was awake. His head was looking at the crack in the top of the windowsill. Her stomach squashed as she thought of him finding her there.  
  
"You know the innkeeper threw hell of a fit when he found you had opened that room." He said it calmly and quietly. She opened her mouth, but she couldn't say a word. Her throat refused to work. He didn't notice or didn't care. Either way he just kept telling the ceiling what happened.  
  
"He thought no one could get in there. He had tried, but it didn't work. He didn't know what was in there. He sensed it was powerful and dark, but he didn't know how powerful and dark. He was never down here during the war, he was above. He was one of the death eaters that only did killing of the soldiers. The moral killing, the killing war entails. But what happened under here...  
  
"I'm guessing the room recognized you. It shouldn't have, it was only supposed to recognize death eaters, but I guess now the war is over, it will accept anything almost. Or maybe it would always let you in. I don't know, I don't want to know. I never wanted to go in there. It would have let me in... I think it would have. I don't really care, actually I do.  
  
But what if you had shut that door and I couldn't get in? What if I didn't care to find you? What if you just remained passed out in there the magic in that room keeping you out of it?"  
  
Her head was resting on the covers as he stopped abruptly. She swallowed, taking in what he was saying.  
  
"Had you..." Hermione managed to find the words to say, letting the implied question fall into the air. This question she sensed he had been dreading since she was here. She knew he didn't want to tell her. but she had to know if he had something to d with that room. If he hadn't why the hell would he be here?  
  
"Yes." He sounded ashamed.  
  
"Did you ever," The new question, this one making Hermione's chest pound. The beat a frantic fear hidden beneath the calmness of the room, the blank expression on her face. Because if he had anything to do with the killing in that room, the cold dead skin on warm flesh of that magick...  
  
"No, I was just inducted into the inner circle there."  
  
"I did"  
  
Severus closed his eyes. The pain of it all coming back. Hermione turned her head to watch him. His voice slow and tried. She wanted to be close to him, but at the same time she knew their experiences needed this space.  
  
Though maybe they were the only two left with these same visions left in their scared minds.  
  
"I don't know if what were connected to in there is true, I don't know and I'm so afraid its true. I don't want to die and not know"  
  
"It's not damn fair, what were we supposed to do?" Hermione's chest was one big not as she cursed out her words, able finally able to ask.  
  
"Let ourselves be killed in our own good morals." That was not the answer she wanted.  
  
"Fuck, morals, were going to be damned to hell anyways, you yourself questioned what that magick in there could do" Hermione knew it was the fear speaking now, her voice so much louder then his, the strain in it evident.  
  
Severus was walking towards her now, having smoothly dislodged himself from windowsill. He fell with enviably grace onto her bed. Resting himself against the headboard as she nudged her way into his arms. Resting her head against his heartbeat she heard him faintly mutter  
  
"Only time will tell... only our time will tell."  
  
She had found the warmth in his arms and closed her eyes. Willing it to let herself to fall into a blessed sleep. He only followed suit, comfortable knowing he was not alone. 


	7. The humanity I know

*A/N: what has it been, 2 or 3 months, well, hoefully I just get soime random person then who is going to read it since anyone who was following had given up ^^" Anyhow, this is a long chapter, I liked it better whn I was writing it. adsum mean "I am here" in latin... hopefully IT will take me alot less time to get next chapter up!^  
  
7. The humanity I know  
  
He had lifted her gently off him, her breathing still of short shallow breaths, she had not woken. He had gotten himself up and brushed off, though what he was brushing off could still be interpreted. He had gently shut the door, now able to let his step echo through the hall, clicking as he stepped down the stairs. And with a curt nod to the innkeeper Severus stepped out to the alley, Sighing he turned.  
  
Facing into it all he could see was the series of small flame. The lights went on and on as he passed them, their usually constant bright, wavered as he went, unsure. He paid no head to them though; he had reached it now. The darkness.  
  
A sheet of black. Not velvet curtain, but rather raged wool, the musty smell of black death still radiating from that sheet. And he was unsure when he looked in whether his eyes were open or shut, unable to tell. Forcing himself to remain calm he took a deep breath and instinctively his legs sprang into action. The instinctive sprint.  
  
Severus ran, his heart beating against the darkness surrounding him. His long leg beating a silent tune on the street path. His sprint beaconing him to take a gulp of air, then immediately sputtering the poison out. His feet now crushed on the bones and skulls littering the ground. His shoes brush against their taunt fleshes now, a sharp and steady scream came for the skulls he was on. He wasn't quite sure if it was his imagination or not. He closed his eyes.  
  
He stopped.  
  
Severus felt his heart pounding, and his mouth desperately ached for some sort of air, he stepped calmly to the left and leaned back on the wall that had formed behind him. He breathed out the carbon echoing around the walls of the chamber. He finally felt the air burning in his lungs affect him and he stopped to feel he air, the dark growing steadily brighter, the slow dim blinding his eyes accustomed to being blind. He took his time stepping forward into the staircase that spiraled downward.  
  
The tight circle he felt his shoulder brush against the stone the heat of the air and his breathe combating the sweat already trickling down his back. Slowly stepping sown, passed the doors had never open. Never dared, never needed, never had the nerve to even want that. He stepped down the stair beneath his feet, it was a shallow staircase, each step barley 2 inches below the next. Each was not even long enough to hold the whole length of his foot. Calculated and precise he stepped down though. The light that had no source tinged the surrounding stone yellow.  
  
He reached the door, his door. He felt the pit of his stomach drop, as it always did. Severus reached out and turned the knob of the door, hoping what he had left was still there. Hoping it was the right door, hoping he wasn't going to screw himself over anymore, hoping the corpse he left had not rotted to the point of death. Though death would probably be a sweet oasis.  
  
A white light spilled from the room, Severus shielded his eyes as he stepped through, not stopping them from watering. He stood there silently waiting. Waiting till he was prepared enough to begin. He shut the door and leaned back, looking at the two glittering eyes he could now see in front of him, a beam on that face, a look you could trademark. Severus sighed.  
  
"It's been a while," Dumbledore began, his voice though wispy from it not being used in a bit of time. And Severus looked down at the old man feeling the pangs of conscience hit him. "You have been busy I suppose..."  
  
"Yes," Severus said looking down at his feet, "No."  
  
"And with whom have you been very productively not productive with?" The old man said joking with the shifting wizard in front of him, trying to catch his eyes. The two dark orbs flashed back underneath the lids that lay heavily upon them.  
  
"Ms. Granger ...Hermione... Mrs. Weasley" He said the words, not stumbling over the, but precisely conveying each, marking each of the, with a soft tick mark in his mind. The differences made separate people. Severus grimaced when he thought of Ms. Granger and her bushy hair and smart attitude, bent over taking on the world. Someone who thought they knew better because they had read the most books, books anyone could read, absorbed the most information. And Mrs. Weasley, though he didn't know her very well, seemed to be a bit angry most the time, pissed off and ready to take the kill. Her world as Ms. Granger was caving in when she was Mrs. Weasley, all she had naively wanted being taken away. Put out of her reach Severus smiled at knowing it would happen all along.  
  
But it was Hermione on the other hand she was beautiful and complex, hidden away underneath the many layers of the rest of herself. Hermione on the other hand was the rose that grew out of the rumble. She wanted something else, something he wanted to give her.  
  
"Ah," Dumbledore murmured  
  
"I didn't do it."  
  
"Yet... ?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
The words were said softly onto the room, the weight of them pulling at the lids of Severus's eyes. Now fully shut he was encompassed by his own self made darkness. He breathed in on his found state, wondering how he did this.  
  
Dumbledore was dead. Well, he was supposed to be. He really was dead then, but now he wasn't. Severus had found his body on the ground untouched, undamaged. And after his funeral Severus was supposed to send him past that black curtain, never to be seen again. The curtain had shut, the end of the show, stand up and give your applause. Or have you walked out twenty minuets ago? But instead he was here. He was bright and shimmering piece of magic in this hell. It was the bad side of hell too.  
  
Severus had breathed a new life into him. Reincarnating the soul. And Severus had selfishly smiled then, because his life had order again. He had looked into the eyes of the new old headmaster and asked what he should do now.  
  
The head master had told him to save those poor souls. And unfortunately for him that meant only one thing. Severus picked up his knife. And waited, he waited in the confines of the room of that 'inn', visiting Dumbledore to report himself. To report his accomplishments, and never once had he recorded a defeat. Putting their souls out of these dark powers, being killed by the damned have saved them.  
  
"There is something a bit different about her." Dumbledore said knowingly to the man in front of him. Severus swallowed and nodded, his stomach dropping, his conscience telling him he should be ashamed.  
  
"She opened the room, number nine." Snape said in trying to convince himself that is what the old headmaster had meant. Thoughts of Hermione lying sleeping peacefully lingered in his mind.  
  
"You never quite got that far did you?" Snape looked up his eyebrow questioning. That far? It was supposed to be bad thing to go into the past. To dissolve yourself into the horrid memories. God had even knew if something of the old magic was in that room that would cause some sort of reawakening.  
  
"Beg your pardon?"  
  
"It took courage to open that door"  
  
"Stupidity you mean." Me earned a hard glare from Dumbledore, who shook his head. Severus felt the blood in his veins thicken, anger heating him.  
  
"This has been why I've been doing this, hasn't it? To try and protect them, right? I've been trying to save them from themselves, and how they are tormenting themselves. And here comes Ms. Granger, a favorite of yours, and suddenly her doings seem 'Courageous?' "Severus yelled out at the man who smiled in spite of him, the chuckle grating his nerves.  
  
"I said, courageous, not right. You need to do the right thing" Dumbledore said to him.  
  
The right thing...  
  
Her sleeping form, the rising and falling of her chest, and him brushing the hair form her face. He wouldn't be able to stop a smile from the innocent bliss of sleep. And then he would quickly ruin the knife through her chest. A sharp intake of breath her eyes would open, Horror, and then her breathing would stop. Severus would pull the knife out, gazing at her glassy eyes, a pain he had not felt in a long time seeping from his heart...  
  
A silence fell over the room, the old man twiddling with his thumbs and Severus feeling as though he would like to purge. The realization of everything he had done washing over him. Sure he had felt about it before, but now in context, his stomach lurched... How could Dumbledore been promoting him this whole time.  
  
"Nothing I have been doing has been right, has it?" The horse voice called onto the room, as it seemed to be suddenly closing in. What had he been doing, killing because this 'wise' wizard told him to? Killing innocent people trying to deal with their past, 'putting them out of their misery?'  
  
He felt a shiver run down his spine as he looked at the old man in front of him. He wasn't Dumbledore, Dumbledore had never pledged his sole to the dark lord let alone the devil, how could the black magick have brought him back?  
  
Severus let out a shudder, a total body convulsion as it all came back to him. That young boy, throwing him to the ground on this very room. Four separate knives and stabbing him through his wrists and ankles pining him to the ground, as the bone tried to fight against the foreign material as the blood curdling screams of pain issued forth. Severus pledging in the name of the dark lord and the darkest lord. to the life sprit issuing from this boy, desperate to escape from his bloody body into the spirit of Dumbledore. Chanting unpronounceable words that cant have issued from his mouth, for no human could speak them...  
  
Until the boy coughed up the last bit up blood from his lips, the drip trickled down his chin, and Dumbledore busy sitting up and coughing up its own blood, the old man's eyes still closed as Severus had waved the body away with his wand.  
  
Severus stumbled away from the man in front of him, the demon, grasping for the doorknob behind him shakily turning the knob and slamming the door leaping up the stairs to the wall of stone he came threw quickly sliding threw it and franticly running through the dark, his steps hardly as deceive as before. Demand of his mind spearing in the black, as he stumbled on the ground, the bones under his feet seemed to grasp up for his ankles and pull him down. Severus kept on pulling himself forward in a sheer blind panic.  
  
Severus pass a black curtain, the candles of the ally now calmly shining on him. His stride stopped as his legs gave away, sinking to the ground, coughing up his own blood and vomit. He placed his head in his hands and wrenched finding nothing more inside of him, nothing but that feeling of indecency. And he closed his eyes to try to escape, but was only greeted by the blazing image of the eyes of a demonic man with his goat horns and teeth flashing in the gleam of white light.  
  
...  
  
The bulky man had dumped him on his bed, without any hint of elegance. Hermione stood up and handed him a galleon and he quickly left her alone, the man on the bed lying in his own grimy sweat and vomit, splashed randomly on the black shirt. Hermione grimaced at the smell, leaning down to unbutton the shirt.  
  
The small buttons unwillingly let up from the shirt, as her hand dodged brushing into the sticky spots. Finally managing to pull the shirt off his body, his lean chest bared, the faint line of the inverted pentagram lingered on the bare skin. She traced it every breath of his lifting and sinking the flesh underneath.  
  
She had her own shielded with a concealment charm a long time ago. Hermione looked perplex running her hand up his arm, the dark mark had disappeared, but the real scar remained. Hermione bent over to reach for the warm wash cloth, dabbing it on the corners of his mouth, and setting it to rest on his forehead.  
  
Hermione shifted and straddled his form, shaking slightly though she had no reason as to why. And bending over, cupping her hands on the circle of his scar, and leaning over taking a few calming breaths breathed the word "adsum" closing her eyes and breathing into her hands.  
  
She breathed in harder, the air dashing into her longs worth something else now. The black of her eyelid faded away to sunlight plain, just the grass, the cloudless sky and the distant sound of a sheep running off their belled collars jingling a soft welcoming sound. And in front of him lie was the body of Dumbledore, a mahogany coffin set flush to the uneven grass. The face of the man, so loved, was pale and cold. Still as the breeze wisped but a few stray gray hairs into the face.  
  
She felt his need to cry, to let it go, but like the person she knew he was, he gritted his teeth, put on a unidentifiable face and Snape turned to the crowd of people standing behind him. Skimming over the faces. Dumbledore had known many, he had touched them, and the field there was full of them, sweeping out and in, closely bond together, leaning in on each other for support. Severus took a breath, the air catching in his lungs.  
  
"I don't know why I am the one to do this. I'm not a man of compliment, kind gestures, and I in no way compare to the man who is behind us." His word floated in the air, unable to echo like they did in the walls of the dungeon. His word could hold no sting, he felt vulnerable.  
  
"But he was one of the best of our kind, too good to be here, but sticking with us anyhow. Perhaps his last big trick has ended, he left us, because he knew that we were too accustomed to him standing around the next corner knowing exactly what's coming, but still making us see for ourselves. I wouldn't doubt if he saw this. But instead of leaving us with proverbs and last words, he left us empty handed, and is chuckling at us in heaven, for putting up such a big fuss about him.  
  
But he was worth this big fuss, and we don't appreciate being left behind. Yet we are.  
  
God rest your soul Albus, you were the best one I ever knew."  
  
Hermione opened her eyes to the man in front of her, and wiping a tear from her eye she held a cup of broth to his mouth, making him down it, before Severus could speak, which he was so frantically trying to do so. And as she tried to shush him. His words bolting out, in a packet of extreme fear...  
  
"We need to leave now." 


	8. Remember why you came

*A/n: its almost done! The next chapter is the last. reveiws are appreciated... much love, and happy reading*  
  
8. Remember why you came  
  
He had awoken, his eyes slowly opening. Hermione felt relief wash over her for second, but only a second as she looked back down at the now opened eyes that held an expression like that of a man silently screaming. His eyes wide he pushed her off him.  
  
Severus bent to the side, vomited, and preceded to tell her they needed to leave,  
  
"Now."  
  
"What?" Hermione's eyes flickered across his face. Sure she was ready to go, but he lived here. This was his home, how long had he lived here? Was he even a wizard citizen anymore? He couldn't just go back to the real world. Just look at him, The sweat dripping down his face, the pale look of a man who has never seen the light, and for certain the moment he moved above ground a pack of owls with long overdue notices would attack him.  
  
He didn't want to stay with her, did he?  
  
Severus stood up moving to the bathroom to continue vomiting, as she sat unsure on his bed. She hadn't fucking asked for this. And she couldn't just bring him to her door and shove him into Ron and say...  
  
"Hi, honey I missed you horribly, say remember our old dear professor Snape, well he needed to get away from his home in hell for a bit. He's going to stay here, okay with you?"  
  
...Severus was saying some sort of incantation and she saw her coat fly into the room and his belongs packing themselves into an indefinitely small trunk. She sat and stared. He wasn't kidding. And being that he never kidded before this, it shouldn't had come as a surprise. Hermione slumped as she felt the sheet pulling itself off the bed.  
  
Trying to regain her posture Hermione stood absent mindedly rubbing her arm staring at him, willing him to notice, to look up from the trunk neatly packing itself. He didn't. Hermione coughed slightly.  
  
"Severus?" She said, finally getting him to look up, and where in she immediately recognized fear. She had seen fear in so many eyes. Fear of little boys and girls as she carted them into those doors, watching their body cram into and top of each other. The fear burned on that little child as she kissed him on his cheek and said goodbye, slamming the door shut on his face, pushing him onto the crowd, and walking away, pretending to not feel like climbing in after them.  
  
"It's winter out there, right?"  
  
"Yes." She admitted knowing that asking any more would yield just as many answers. He had picked up a cloak, flung it over himself and she followed suit slipping on her coat, the leather sticking to her hot sticky skin. Severus, bent down, kissed her on her forehead and shoved her out the door, following her stumbling form out with the trunk floating behind.  
  
Resigning Hermione stepped down the stairs knowing that this was probably the best choice, And Severus threw a bag of what she supposed to be money on the counter, it falling heavily as the bartender looked at her. She reached in her pocket for her own money, but Severus shook his head at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder escorting her out of the door.  
  
And there they stood waiting for that manhole cover to descend, the light from above spilling down, Hermione staring at him, his hair gleaming in the sun. And she breathed, it was all too perfect, them just escaping like this, running off into the sunlight. She just couldn't do it. He was running away. She couldn't let him run away. Hermione turned and walked back to the building, knowing he would question her.  
  
"Where are you going?" His voice barked at her, in a desperate attempt at intimidation  
  
He was too afraid to go above by himself.  
  
"Back" she called over her shoulder stopping at the door, waiting for him. Hearing the soft settle of the manhole cover. He had choose now.  
  
"You can't stay here!" Severus's own voice betraying him. Sounding a bit too load, desperate almost.  
  
"Yes I can, I'm a big girl now." Her voice was now the soft and calm one, cutting into the air.  
  
"You know what's down there, I know you saw my memories, and even if your not afraid of it, I don't give a rats ass. You are leaving." Severus pointed, hand shaking. He was standing there vulnerable as she looked at him, shaking her head.  
  
"I didn't see anything."  
  
"Yes you did, I know that healing spell!" She had performed a mental pull, she had to have seen it, the most emotional moment, he was never emotional...  
  
" I saw Dumbledore funeral, now if you would please just tell me what the hell you are so damn uptight about.."  
  
Damn it, he cursed himself, feeling more bare and exposed. That damned funeral being his most sappy and gooey moment, seen by the likes of Granger. She was probably convinced he had a heart now. Her Gryffindor romantic visions now fluttering.  
  
Severus walked over to her, looking down at her eyes they looked back searching. He took a deep breath knowing he was going to regret this and bent down to kiss her forehead, closing his eyes and concentration trying to damn the flow of thoughts spilling into her head.  
  
He felt them pass, the pain, and fulfillment, sorrow and agony slipping past him, and felt her body convulse periodically underneath him. And eventually he felt her crying into his chest and he pulled away feeling it was time to stop. She had seen enough. He had seen enough and he sank to he ground with her entangled in his arms, as she sniffed.  
  
"We can't just leave"  
  
"Yes we can" He whispered back shushing her.. He felt her body stiffen.  
  
"No, you can't just leave that and expect nothing." She said it slowly as if talking to a small child with no capacity that everything they said on the television wasn't true, and that Holley from Jamboree really didn't have a pet unicorn. But she was the one sniffing in his arms like a 4 year old. Severus felt his blood pressure rise.  
  
"I" Severus began, she pulled out of his grasp standing up, her Gryffindor tendency of overpowering, talking a hold of her.  
  
"No, how naive do you expect me to believe you are?" She shouted at him.  
  
"How naive are you" He said quietly back at her fuming face. She was angry. He just wanted to leave. He wasn't taking this seriously enough. Just let it be and maybe everything will be all right. God knows the only reason it stayed in that room was because it had him to do its dirty work for it. Or maybe it had left, and he just never knew it.  
  
She was walking away again, towards the other direction, towards the darkness. He got up and caught up to her. She didn't even acknowledge his presence. They just walking in a silence till they reached the end. And she stood there, almost astonished that it really did exist.  
  
"And what are we going to do once we get there?" He asked exasperated, suddenly tired. He wanted to be done with this. Why was she being so stubborn?  
  
"I don't know"  
  
Hermione looked down at her hands, and up at where she was going, and in turn found another hand nestled in between her fingers. The warm weight pressing her hand. She wanted to be mad with him, she wanted to keep up the act but she couldn't. She stood in front of the black veil and looked at him. Finding herself wrapped in his arms, the unforgiving voice whispering in her ear.  
  
"We don't have to do this Hermione, what is here stays here, please, I'm tired of this."  
  
"We don't know for sure." Was her reply and she lead him onto the dark, a swallowing and suddenly she felt alone though his hand still clung to hers.  
  
Hermione could spend hours describing the walk, the putrid smell of burning bone and the fear that somehow had bore into her sole. How she clung closely to the arm of a man who mad it quite evident that no words should be spoken. She walking along in silence crushing underfoot and the falling of flesh bouncing back, and then the voices. Hermione closed her eyes in the darkness and blocked them out. The voices, some of which she knew. Voices that drove a chill into her spine. And pulling close he stopped her. His body guiding hers. The feel of him pushing her in and then the light coming back.  
  
Hermione hide herself in his chest, her eyes water from the light sneaking around into view and she felt him absent-mindedly rubbing her, feeling her, and comforting her. She wanted to be comforted. She wanted to feel reassured. She couldn't. And when he opened that door and he shoved her in she felt nothing but uncertainty. And then she opened her eyes.  
  
She saw absolutely nothing. There was a stone chamber, gray and lit by some unobtainable bright source. A small old bloodstain on the floor. But there was nothing, no antichrist, no demon, nothing.  
  
Hermione heard him shut the door and her thoughts raced effortlessly through her head. He must not had lied to her. He wouldn't' have. He couldn't have lied because he was standing there now, pulling her in, his labored breath, her frantic heart beat. The demon must have gotten away. She knew this would happen. This is why she told him to come back, why was he so painfully naive? He wasn't supposed to be naive, he was supposed to be the smart calm collected one, he was the one listening to her yell and rant and rave and he was to calmly reply.  
  
"Do you see now? Please Hermione can we please leave?" His breath whispered to her ear. Hermione held him closer  
  
"I knew it would get away..."  
  
"Get away?"  
  
"Yes, its probably out somewhere doing only god knows what, look at what it did to you, and you one of the strongest people..."  
  
Severus's pulse beat louder in his ears. She was going on her eyes darting everywhere but that one spot, where two gleaming eyes shone back at them.  
  
"Hermione, it is still here"  
  
Hermione turned around and saw nothing. Her hand beginning to shake, she shook her head. He had gone mad.  
  
"No Severus, it's not here. Was it even here to begin with, was this all in your head? " Hermione began to become even more afraid, she watched how his eyes flashed back and forth like he was seeing something. He really was insane. He was going to kill her and he had dragged her down here to do it. Was this ceremonial?  
  
"Hermione!" He shouted desperately, trying to get her to see what he so evidently saw, the smile paling on the lips of the man sitting behind her, the smile lines forming some sort of ill and controverter pattern. He was standing up and Hermione was shouting going on about how he was insane... she was insane, she should see it, was she too damn pure to see it?  
  
And then it took out a knife that Severus never knew the figure to have. the blade giving a glint as it rammed into her. A pained shriek sounding and echoing within the small walls of the room, and Severus sunk to the ground with her, catching her as she fell, blood on his hands, and a stab at his heart.  
  
And the old man in front of him kneeled and looked at Severus, the wicked grin still on his face. The merry twinkle still playing at his eyes. The knife though had disappeared.  
  
"I've done all I can for you Severus" It contrived and with a small wink and a nod. The life in the body fell away. The body of Dumbledore fell dead to the ground too, it rotted away to only a small bit of flesh stuck to the bone, flesh melted away in front of Severus's eyes. Severus shut his eyes and willed it away. It didn't work though.  
  
Because when he looked down and saw the knife in his own hand. 


	9. While You're Alive

*A/n: last chapter, finally... this story took me long enough. I hope its not all too melodramatic, though I already know it is. Please leave me a review if you do read :) Next off my list Ill probably be re editing my first story because of all the grammar errors, then this summer I might write something completely different, maybe a comedy or something *shrugs*  
  
Theophania: You question wont be answered, but it is discussed in the 2nd to last paragraph... and thanks for being my 'loyal' reader, its much appreciated ^_^*  
  
9. While You're Alive  
  
He dropped the knife, it falling out of Hermione's flesh without the support and falling to the floor. A red glint of blood in the light. Severus didn't know what just happened, he never hurt Hermione. It must have been that thing , it must be real for its bone were now shed of flesh and degraded, the skull seemed to look at him, in a perpetual grin. But all the evidence pointed the in the other direction, he had killed her.  
  
Severus stood up and ran.  
  
He ran out of that door, immediately knowing going back was not an option, the line in the sand had been erased. Her ran down the spiraling staircase amazed at the fact he did not trip over his own feet and he kept his mind set on the one thing he knew was there, it had to be there...  
  
It was. The door at the bottom of the steps. Rusted and molded to its doorway, the stone door was there, and he knew the hundreds of other doors he had passed on the way down were not for him. He reached out and pushed it open, the hinges giving way. He cold breezes of fresh air hit him with force and he sputtered in the harsh morning light, accepting the chill to enter his bones. Severus stepped through to the other side, surveying the concrete roof top that was surrounding him, the 40 stories down where was the ground. Then the feminine figure standing at the door he had just stepped through.  
  
...  
  
Hermione had opened her eyes to the blur of pain, stretching from her back sharp and piercing, to the blunt ache in her legs and arms from apparently falling to the ground. She saw a dark figure exit out of the room and it took but a few seconds for whom it was to sink in. She was alone and afraid. She didn't know what ad happened, her mind black, but she knew she felt safe with him.  
  
Getting up she stepped on the skull of skeleton laying beside her, and not even noticing she crushed it into a fine dust, she followed him wearily down those stairs, her body protesting every step of the way, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she could barley breath. But then the warm light pour onto he sweating body and she was sure she had reached the end, only she could yet again see that dark cloaked figure.  
  
Hermione watched him, he appeared to be lost, but so was she. She took a step out on the rooftop to join him, and he saw her, his dark eyes latching onto hers and she gasped, the memories hitting her in waves. She knew where she was. She knew who he was. She knew what she had to do.  
  
Hermione walked out and over to him, gratefully falling into his arms when she finally reached that far. The warmth of his robes encompassing her, and protecting her from the cold frigid wind, which had only made her sweat grow cold, and made the air harder to breath in her lungs, though it made her very light headed when she did get some.  
  
Severus looked down at her head, her hair blowing haphazardly in the wind. The sticky blood on her robes soaking through to his, the dark spot growing larger. How did she live? It must have been the knife didn't go that deep, or into anything important. And now she was standing in his arms slowly but surly bleeding to death.  
  
But he was dying slowly too, perhaps slower then her, but surly enough. And he knew a part of him had already died. And he knew this was it, the best it was going to get for a long time, with a beautiful women bleeding to death in his arms, and she looked up at him, the pure amber in her eyes assaulting his senses.  
  
It was then that they both knew what they had to do. Severus bent down to kiss her lips them off and pale beneath his, and the look of her amber eyes reaching him, giving a knowing nod, without moving. Together they jumped off the edge.  
  
Hermione felt her stomach summersault as she kissed him back the winds of falling and the breeze blowing through her hair so that she could imagine she was flying, and she could see the smile in his black eyes, knowing there was one in hers.  
  
The 4 seconds before you hit, the happiest million moments in your life. The freedom before you hit the air offering no resistance as they fell spinning and hand brushing the hair out of her eyes. She felt warm and free of all the pain that she felt but less then a minute ago. But to imagine the feeling of peace and contentment of that second.  
  
...  
  
Mr. Ronald Weasley had died two days after Mrs. Hermione Weasley left, being piss drunk and driving in the car with hi muggle mistress, who was pregnant with his child. Mr. Weasley as a result of his afore mentioned condition and his lack of knowledge on how to properly handle the muggle vehicle ran into a busy intersection, killing both himself and his girlfriend who was containing the thing he had wanted for a long while now.  
  
Mr. Albus Dumbledore was pronounced dead the day after lord Voldemort had been defeated, though had been though to be in deaths grip since early the day before. His, body never contained his own soul again. He would have been truly and utterly flabbergasted at the turmoil done to it. And would sadly shake his head at why this was done, feeling a sadness for knowing these type of things are beyond his powers.  
  
The demon who had inhabited Mr. Albus Dumbledore's body is gone. Was he even real in the place though? He is only as real as any demon. But are there any demons but in the souls of those who believe? It is no matter though because he is gone from here now.  
  
Mr. Severus Snape and Mrs. Hermione Weasley fell to their death, on the last day of their lives. The ground hit them with vengeance, though a soft crack filled with grass tried its damnedest to soften the fall. Upon their death, the black curtain that they had initially fled was never there. The place where they lay does not exist anymore if it ever did. 


End file.
